


Lady in Red

by leafiest_groves



Series: ❃ 𝓛𝓮𝓱𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓪 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 ❃ [4]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Classical Dancing, F/M, Indian Potters, Pureblood Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23120335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafiest_groves/pseuds/leafiest_groves
Summary: "As she excused herself, dizzy from the rush of power, she reached out for the one person whose magic she’d longed to feel all night."The sheer emotion of a certain dance takes Harini's breath away.
Relationships: Female Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom
Series: ❃ 𝓛𝓮𝓱𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓪 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 ❃ [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661890
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Lady in Red

_Bhamani…Satyabhamani…_

Thinking of the energetic tempo of the music made a grin creep its way onto her face. Harini’s moment in the spotlight was here. Of course, it had come many times before, but this time was special. This time, the song meant something else to her. The ebbing and flowing eddies of magic around her at every moment of the day were burning brighter in her presence. She shook out her hands and turned to look at herself in the mirror.

The eyeliner would’ve looked somewhat ridiculous in any other scenario, but right now, her eyes were expressive and nearly catlike. The heavy gold chain, the heavy earrings, the band cinching her waist, they were brilliant over the deep crimson fabric. Her hands were stained red with mehendi, and she tried to shrug off her excitement at the fact that the colour was deep and rich. Her braid was so long, and so heavy, with the flowers and gold hairpieces pinned generously in it. Padma’s voice in the background alerted her to the fact that it was time for her to go on. She grinned wider. She had loved the spotlight, loved the performances since she was a little girl. Now, she would share that joy to others.

Her magic hummed, pleased. It was thrumming with positive energy, she felt like she could soar among the birds if she wanted to, but also as if she was walking on pins and needles.

  
_Vayyari, muddula! Vayyari…Satyabhamani…Satyabhamani…_

_  
_Krishna and his wife, what a story to tell. What a story for a lovesick girl to tell. Her teacher had been half-teasing and half-apologetic, she’d said that it was probably impossible for her to do the dance with the fullness of emotion, since she’d never been in love before. To everyone’s surprise but her own, she performed beautifully. The depth of the emotion, ‘a man and his wife’, something she’d never been expected to do well, she’d potrayed as powerfully as she could’ve.

Bhamakalapam was the perfect piece for peacocking-after all, who didn’t love saying that among 16,000 wives, _they_ were the favourite-but even more so, it was one of the best ways to convey the multitude of indescribable emotions one feels when the person who holds their heart holds the hearts of others, and you can only hope that they treasure their possession of your love above all others. Every bit of that complex emotion, crashing and cresting in her like a storm, it shook the room when it radiated outwards full force. Threads of her magic searched the environment around her for even a whisper of wind that aligned with her patron, swirling around her like a foggy cloud of ribbon, cloaking her in a cocoon of a shimmering gold mist. Her arms, her legs, her back, all sore from the enormous physical effort of dancing like this for this long. She couldn’t bring herself to care. 

No other euphoria felt like that. Nothing could capture the image of her feelings like that. As the beat pounded in her ears, as the band members sang and strummed and beat the tempo for her, the scene played out in her head. Fiercely possessive and beautiful, Satyabhama’s song was a love letter to those who were willing to fight for their love. The crowd’s low exclamations could be heard as the mist shifted, turning into the likenesses of the characters of that myth, all caught up in each other.

A cheer went up as she swayed off the stage, her heart raced, and she could barely hear her friends’ congratulations over the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears. As she excused herself, dizzy from the rush of power, she reached out for the one person whose magic she’d longed to feel all night. 

As soon as Neville’s magic touched hers, the dam keeping the magic from flooding out from her broke. It went whirling around the entire amphitheatre, bringing dead plants to life, putting colour into people’s cheeks, rushing and giggling like a gale. She pulled his magic tightly against herself, wrapping it around her own rippling magical energy. The lehenga she’d been waiting to wear for so long was finally slipped on, and now it was simply a matter of _finding him._

Harini’s dupatta fluttered behind her as she ran, her eyes bright and her mind caught up in the emotion of the song. The thudding of her feet against the stone floors brought her closer and closer to him with each step, and she was frenzied in her search, clinging to his magic like a guiding star. Her bangles clanged and belled together, and for a moment all she could do was look at him. The chain round her neck had a tiger pendant dangling from it, and it shook softly in the hollow of her throat from the speed of her pulse.  
The tsunami of magic inside of her screamed to do _something, anything._

_  
_She felt her feet walking her to him.

_His smile is so gentle._

She felt his magic tangle itself in hers.

_He’s never going to leave me._

Her hands reached out for him.

_He didn’t need to ask for my hand in bonding._

She stood on her tiptoes.

_He knew he already had it._

She hooked her arms behind his neck.

_I trust him._

She gave him her maiden’s kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @fantasy-n-stuff on Tumblr, who even offered to draw something of this 'verse.


End file.
